The Distance Between Us

Jamie did not expect sleep, but it came anyway — thin and fractured, like glass under pressure. He woke before dawn with Adrian’s last message replaying in his mind. You should be. He lay still, staring at the faint gray light leaking through his curtains. He was not afraid of Adrian. He was afraid of what Adrian made him feel. That was worse.

By the time he reached campus, the world felt deceptively normal. Students rushed past him with headphones in, coffee cups in hand, arguments about exams and deadlines filling the air. No one here knew about shattered glass. No one knew about men who arrived in coordinated silence. No one knew that protection could feel like possession. Jamie liked it that way.

He made it through his morning classes on autopilot, scribbling notes he would later have to re-read. Every vibration of his phone sent a spike through his chest — but Adrian did not text again. The silence stretched. It should have relieved him. Instead, it irritated him. By late afternoon, he realized what bothered him most — Adrian had stepped back without asking whether Jamie wanted him to. Again.

When Jamie arrived at Bar Della Luna that evening, the air felt lighter. No storm clouds. No tension humming under the surface. Too quiet. Mara was polishing glasses when he walked in. “You look like you are planning something reckless,” she said casually. Jamie blinked. “Why does everyone think that lately?”

“Because your eyes are loud.” He tied his apron slowly. “Maybe I am tired of reacting.”

“To what?” Jamie hesitated. “To things I did not choose.” Mara studied him carefully. “Then choose.” It sounded simple when she said it. The bar filled steadily. Laughter rose. Music pulsed low and warm. Jamie moved through the motions — pouring drinks, taking orders, pretending the absence did not gnaw at him. Nine o’clock. Ten. No Adrian. No Luca. The door opened several times — but never for the person Jamie pretended he was not watching for.

By eleven, irritation replaced disappointment. Fine. If Adrian wanted distance, he would get it. Jamie stepped outside during his short break, inhaling the cool night air. The street was calm — almost gentle compared to earlier in the week. He leaned against the brick wall and checked his phone. Nothing. The frustration hit sharper than he expected. He typed before he could overthink it.

Jamie: Are you avoiding the bar or me. The message sent instantly. He stared at the screen — pulse climbing. Three minutes passed. Four. Then—

Adrian: Both.

Jamie let out a breath that was half laugh, half disbelief.

Jamie: That is not how this works.

Adrian: It is how it has to work.

Jamie: Says who. A longer pause this time.

Adrian: Says the part of me that does not want you dragged deeper.

Jamie’s jaw tightened.

Jamie: You do not get to decide what is too deep for me. The typing dots appeared almost immediately, stopped and appeared again.

Adrian: You think you are ready for the consequences.

Jamie’s fingers hovered.

Jamie: I think I am tired of being shielded like I am fragile. Several seconds passed.

Adrian: You are not fragile.

Jamie: Then stop treating me like I am. The screen stayed silent. Jamie stared at it — heart pounding — until the bar door opened behind him. “Break’s over,” Mara called. Jamie slipped his phone away, frustration simmering. Inside, the bar felt louder now — heat rising from bodies packed close together. Someone knocked into his shoulder. Someone else laughed too loudly. Jamie worked harder than necessary — pouring drinks faster, wiping counters with unnecessary force.

Near midnight, the door opened again. This time, the shift in the air was unmistakable. Luca entered first. Jamie’s breath caught. Adrian followed. No dramatic entrance, no performance, just quiet gravity. Conversations dipped slightly — not enough to draw attention, but enough to signal awareness. Jamie kept his eyes on the counter. They approached the bar. Adrian did not sit. “Outside,” he said softly. Jamie looked up — irritation flashing. “I am working.”

“It will take two minutes.” Luca positioned himself a few steps away — watching everything without appearing to. Jamie glanced at Mara. She gave him a small nod. He stepped out from behind the bar and walked toward the exit without waiting for Adrian to guide him. Outside, the night air was cooler than he expected. “You said you were staying away,” Jamie began. “I said I was trying.”

“That is not the same.” Adrian exhaled slowly. “You are right.” Jamie crossed his arms, “you cannot keep deciding for both of us.”

“I am not deciding for you.”

“You disappeared.”

“To reduce risk.” Jamie stepped closer — not aggressively, but firmly. “You think I do not understand risk,” he said quietly. “I work three jobs, I calculate risk every day.” Adrian’s gaze softened slightly. “Financial risk is not the same as violence.” Jamie did not flinch, “and yet I am still standing.” Silence stretched between them. Cars passed in the distance. Music thumped faintly through the bar walls. “You asked if you should be afraid,” Adrian said. “You should.”

“Of you?”

“Yes.” Jamie searched his face. “For what reason.” Adrian hesitated — which was rare. “Because when I decide something matters,” he said carefully, “I do not let it go.” Jamie’s heart stuttered. “That sounds like a threat.”

“It is a warning.” Jamie swallowed — pulse quickening. “And if I do not want to be let go.” Adrian’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “You do not understand what that invites.”

“Then explain it.” Adrian looked away briefly — toward the dark street — as if weighing how much to say. “The men who came that night,” he began, “do not care about lines, they care about leverage.” Jamie’s stomach tightened. “You think I am leverage.”

“I think they will try to make you that.”

“And you.”

“I would burn the ground down before allowing it.” The intensity in his voice sent a chill through Jamie. “That is exactly what I mean,” Jamie whispered. “You think destruction is protection.” Adrian’s eyes flashed — not anger, something sharper. “You would rather I do nothing.”

“I would rather you trust me enough to choose.” The words hung there — heavy and undeniable. Adrian studied him for a long moment. “I do not know how to do this without control,” he admitted quietly. The confession shifted something. Jamie stepped even closer now — close enough to feel the warmth between them. “Then learn,” he said softly. Adrian’s breathing changed — subtle but noticeable. “You are asking me to be something I am not.”

“I am asking you to try.” A beat of silence. Then Adrian reached out — not grabbing — not claiming — just brushing his fingers lightly against Jamie’s wrist. The contact was brief. Electric. Jamie did not pull away. “That is dangerous,” Adrian murmured. “I know.”

“You could walk away.”

“I could.”

“Why are you not.” Jamie met his gaze fully. “Because I do not want to.” The honesty landed between them like a dropped match. For a moment, the world felt suspended — the city noise distant, the bar forgotten. Adrian’s thumb moved slightly against Jamie’s wrist — a barely there motion that felt louder than the storm had. “I will not cage you,” Adrian said quietly. “And I will not be hidden,” Jamie replied.

Something resolved in Adrian’s expression then — not dominance, not surrender, decision. “We move carefully,” Adrian said. “Together.” Jamie nodded slowly. “Together,” he agreed. Behind them, the bar door opened briefly. Luca stepped outside — eyes scanning — then gave Adrian a subtle nod. Adrian withdrew his hand reluctantly. “I will not disappear again,” he said. “You better not,” Jamie replied. A faint smile crossed Adrian’s face.

When they walked back inside, nothing looked different. But everything felt changed. Luca resumed his position near the wall — watchful as ever. Adrian took a seat at the bar this time — not the booth. Not hiding, not claiming, just present. Jamie moved behind the counter — pulse steadying, resolve firm. He poured Adrian a drink without being asked. Set it down. Their eyes met briefly — no challenge this time, no retreat. Just understanding.

The distance between them had not vanished, but it had shifted and for the first time since this began, Jamie felt something stronger than fear. He felt equal. And that — more than danger — was what would change everything.